


Night Terror

by Poecilotheria



Series: The Moon and the Star [3]
Category: Hoshi no Kaabii | Kirby: Right Back at Ya!, Kirby - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Gijinka, Weaponized Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12318861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poecilotheria/pseuds/Poecilotheria
Summary: Everybody can use a little comfort.  Even when they can't admit it.





	Night Terror

            Meta’s eyes shot open as a slit of light illuminated his bed.  He sat up, and peered toward his now cracked open door.  He sighed heavily, and flicked on his bedside lamp.

            “What is it, Kirby?” he said.  The pink haired child nervously shifted his feet.  He was staying at Meta’s castle room for the night after a storm rolled in while he was visiting.  The knight had insisted on him staying rather than braving the storm, albeit in his usual prickly manner.  Kirby scuttled over and stood next to Meta’s bed, an uncharacteristically timid look on his face.

            “I had a bad dream,” he whimpered.  Meta frowned.  Kirby was usually borderline fearless. 

            “Come here,” he sighed, shifting over.  Kirby quickly hopped into the bed, and clung to Meta without hesitation.  Meta grudgingly allowed it.

            “You were hurt,” Kirby whispered.  Meta’s frown deepened, and he awkwardly patted the youth’s back.

            “Everything is alright.  I am perfectly fine,” his gruff voice did not lend itself well to a soothing tone.  Kirby huffed, and looked up at the man.

            “I know!  It was just scary,” he pouted.  Meta let out a long breath.

            “Kirby, it is fine.  Everybody has nightmares occasionally,” he said.  He turned to find wide blue eyes boring into him.

            “Do you have bad dreams too?”  Meta glanced away for a second.  _Always…_

            “Sometimes,” he answered.  Kirby seemed surprised.

            “Do all grown-ups get them?” he asked.

            “There is no age limit to fear,” Meta said.

            “Huh.”  Kirby sat silently for a while.  “Hey Meta?”

            “Hm?” Meta snapped fully awake after briefly dozing off.

            “Can I… stay here?  For tonight?” he asked.  Meta allowed himself to sink back into his bed.

            “I suppose you may-“Kirby instantly latched on to him, and Meta obligingly put a protective arm around him.

            “G’night Meta!” Kirby chirped. 

            “Good night, Kirby,” Meta responded, flicking off the light.  They slept soundly that night despite the storm still raging outside.

            The scenario repeated itself several months later.  Kirby watched TV as rain pounded the windows, and lightning occasionally illuminated the room.  Meta had fallen asleep on the couch beside him.  The knight had seemed utterly exhausted the last couple of weeks, so Kirby decided to leave him be.  As the commercial break began, he hopped up for a snack.  Or at least what Kirby called a snack.  Most people would call it a meal.  He swung open the fridge and began rummaging around.  Meta had a similar metabolism as him, albeit to a lesser extent.  Though he eschewed more unhealthy foods and stocked mostly fruit, aside from a jar of candy that was far above Kirby’s reach.  Kirby retrieved a container of watermelon slices, and subsequently dropped it as a shout came from the other room.  He skidded into the room, ready to fight off whatever demon had reared its ugly head.

            “Meta?!” he squeaked.  The man had curled into a defensive position, digging his clawed fingers into his face as he clutched it in fear.  His breath was ragged and shallow.  “Meta!” Kirby shouted, running over and pulling at his hands.  Meta’s eyes regained their usual clarity, and his breath evened.  He sat up quickly.

            “Kirby!  Are you alright?” he shouted.  Kirby lightly pushed him back, preventing him from standing.

            “You’re bleeding!  What happened?” Kirby asked.  Meta noted the small amount of blood on his nails and the stinging sensation on one side of his head.  He resisted the urge the curse loudly.

            “Just… dreaming,” he muttered, fully recalling his current location.  Kirby hurriedly scampered over to his backpack before returning with a small box.  Meta looked up from contemplating whether or not it was too unsanitary to wipe blood on the couch.

            “Sit still,” Kirby instructed, pulling out two Band-Aids.  Meta obligingly allowed him access to the fresh scratches on his head.  He declined to comment on the bandages’ violently pink color or on the fact that one generally cleaned the injury before applying bandages.  He really couldn’t say anything.  He was the moron who just clawed his own head.  Kirby sat back, and Meta could feel the two pink additions stuck firmly in place.

            “Thank you,” he muttered.  Kirby gave him a sudden hug.

            “And that’s for the nightmare,” he quipped.  Meta awkwardly returned the hug.

            “You are far too perceptive for your own good,” he mumbled.  Kirby hopped up onto the couch beside him. 

            “I’ll stay here to keep ‘em away,” he said brightly.  Meta couldn’t stop the small genuine smile from spreading across his lips. 

            “I am certain you will,” he chuckled.  The past that so bitterly haunted him seemed so much further away when the future was beaming at him.          

**Author's Note:**

> Pure, unadulterated fluff. There can never be enought father-son Kirby and Meta fics!


End file.
